I know, I'm probably too focused on this, but hell, it's my blog, and now that I am no longer working 16-hour days, I need something to obsess over.

I am striving to get to a good place mentally. As I was doing my usual 8:30 AM jaunt around the workplace grounds (weather note: unseasonably cool with brisk winds), it came to me that I am looking at three discreet and distinct time frames for moving on. Short, Mid and Long (no Nobels there).

Short Term Time begins Now and extends out about two weeks or so. This block is the keep-my-head-down-and-focus block, and it's typically good. When thinking on this time frame, I am okay , because I am busy, I have things to do - both rote and out of the ordinary that I can focus on and be okay with myself. Right now, those include my son's graduation, a couple of planned long runs, and a trip to visit a dude in the Portland area. I've never been to Portland, so that'll be good. He and I will do some runs there, too. Double plus good.

Long term is looking at the horizon. Long term I know I will be okay, because I will have come to terms with me, and my situation. Whether I am alone or have a partner is kind of irrelevant when I look at that time frame, because I know I will have settled my mind either way.

Mid-term is the hard one. Looking at the time period of several weeks to a few years out, I am seized with doubts, fears and self recrimination about how I got to this point and WTF I can or want to do about it. Looking at the run next week? Okay. Looking at retiring in Costa Rica? Okay. Looking at this winter? Not okay - that looks lonely. I hope that as the time frames roll along (as they will), the differences in them begin to gradually fade. The way I look at it is that right now they are kind of a shit sandwich: a crappy outlook between two more positive ones. Here's to hoping it all gets mushed into a indistinct blob of okay-ness.

I hate to say, it but Eddie Money was wrong all those years ago. I've got One Ticket to Paradise, not Two.

After a long, and overall good, marriage, I am a single man again. For the first time in more than twenty years, I have a bathroom to myself. It's been quite an adjustment (in general, not the bathroom accessibility), and nothing speaks to the changes I am facing more than dipping a toe into the dating pool. What's happened? What's changed? I feel like Sam Baldwin in Sleepless in Seattle: How does this work? What am I supposed to do? "So, how's my butt?"

I'm too old for the bar scene, and I don't imagine one meets many eligible women while trail running alone in the wilderness. The couple of running groups I occasionally associate with have no single women age appropriate/of interest to me. At least none that I have crossed paths with. So, I thought I would give technology a try.

I've created profiles on Tinder, Bumble, Plenty of Fish, and Match. I posted recent and decent photos of myself - photos that even show my ugly mug with my god-awful, skewed smile. I've swiped right like a wild man, and sent messages until I have exhausted all available, interesting profiles in my area. Then, I sat back and waited.

And waited...and waited. Nothing -- Not. A. Damn. Thing.

Well, that's demoralizing. They say even a blind squirrel finds the occasional nut. It's unfortunate that a blind squirrel is more successful than I am.

Wow, it's been a while since I last touched this blog, and website. So much has passed, so much has changed, I'm not sure where to begin. I'll just mind-vomit the highlights of the last couple of months.

I described myself as a new version (7.0) near the beginning of 2017, as the new version of myself was launched in February when I became a solo agent after 20 years of a relationship/marriage. The feelings associated with that particular goodbye are deep and profound, and, now - after four months - are still roiling and tumultuous. Toss in a few other factors, like my son heading off to college and my daughter leaving for a year-long exchange, and I'm thinking I'm doing pretty well simply not curling into a ball and shutting out the world.

I know how weak that sounds, but hey, I never laid claim to any strength titles. My now ex-wife is far tougher than I ever was or will be. The change in our lives seems to have affected her a lot less than me, but that could just be my perception. Who knows, maybe she cries herself to sleep at night. But, after living with her for more than twenty years, I don't think so; she's tough, resilient and optimistic - and still my friend.

I've more recently upgraded to version 7.1 in April when I moved to a new city and started paying rent for the first time in twenty-five years. That part of my transition has been relatively good. It's a nice condo, small enough that I can maintain it easily (I don't plan to be there a lot) yet has room for my kids to visit when they choose. They both do regularly, since I have faster Internet than at the old homestead. But, soon Spencer will be off on his own adventures at university, as will Mikaela abroad. I'll still see Spence on the occasional weekend and holiday, and Mikaela will be back for a couple more years of high school in 2018, but beginning in August and continuing until then, it's going to be pretty stinkin' quiet.

My coping mechanism has always been getting out on trails. First it was mostly with friends, but since the divorce, I discovered that if I didn't initiate contact, I heard nothing but crickets. Huh. So you know I've said goodbye to my marriage and my house and you don't think to invite me out for a beer? That speaks volumes, "friend". I've distanced myself from that group of people (since reclassified as "running buddies"), both physically and emotionally, and now am working to finding the balance I need to accept myself as a solo agent. Obviously a work in progress, but I think I have moved along a bit. Planning to be alone the rest of my life is scary - especially at night when the demons scratch at the window, but I am working to overcome the fear. At least I don't have to worry about finances, as I have a good job, my future retirement is secure, and the kids' college educations are banked. My only "worries" are social, and how to occupy my time so the demons stay away. I am able to run still, but as I push double nickels this year, I am reminded that I am not a young buck anymore. The end of my trail running career is visible, and I need something to do. I have some ideas to fill the void though. More on that another time.​